"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Death on D Street" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

This eBook is published by

Fictionwise Publications
www.fictionwise.com

Excellence in eBooks

Visit www.fictionwise.com to find more titles by this and other top authors in Science Fiction, Fantasy,
Horror, Mystery, and other genres.




Fictionwise
www.Fictionwise.com

Copyright ┬й2002 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

First published in Guns of the West, ed. Ed Gorman, August 2002


NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies
of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email,
floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International
copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.



Ginny had just blown out the lamp and snuggled against me, her slender arm across my chest. The house
still held too much of the day's warmth for us to be cuddled so close together, but I didn't move her. I
liked the touch of her skin against mine, even when we were both too tired to do anything about it.

The baby was quiet for the first time in two days. She was teething and not happy about it. Ginny'd been
rubbing my brandy against the baby's gums and it didn't seem to be doing anything except wasting good
liquor. Still, Ginny swore that was a teething trick and I figured she'd know. She had gotten Sam through
it, and on her own. By comparison, this couldn't be as bad.

We should have expected the knock on the doorтАФor something to break the quiet, but the knock
surprised both of us. The baby wailed. Ginny must have already been asleep because she rolled over fast
and reached for the gun she kept in the top dresser drawer.

I caught her arm and soothed her awake. I'd seen this reaction before and knew its source. A woman
traveling alone across country had to be adept at protecting herself and her child. Nothing I could do
convinced her she was safe. I'd stopped trying a year before.

I jerked on my pants as the knock came again. The baby's wail grew into a scream. I grabbed a shirt
and said, тАЬSee to the kids.тАЭ Then I headed down the stairs.
The knocking started a third time. I yanked the door open. Travis stood outside. He'd set his lantern on
the porch. The yellow light illuminated his mud-stained pants and scuffed boots. The stench of cigars and
cheap booze wafted inside.